


(Feels Like) The First Time

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drunk Castiel, Fluff, Human Castiel, Hurt Castiel, M/M, alcohol use, first hunt, ghost hunt - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-17 02:42:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4649166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Once again, editing was done with the lovely ifitships_isits</p><p>Written for the Destiel Forever challenge on Facebook.</p>
    </blockquote>





	(Feels Like) The First Time

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, editing was done with the lovely ifitships_isits
> 
> Written for the Destiel Forever challenge on Facebook.

.“Still a few inches off. Relax your shoulders, stop leaning back and squeeze, don’t pull.” Dean grinned as he stepped into Castiel’s space, taking the ancient and battered 20 gauge single shot and checking the sights one last time before handing it back with a few extra shells. “Let’s squeeze in a few more rounds and call it a day. We’re supposed to be heading out some time tomorrow afternoon, so we’ve got all morning to pack up and get in any last minute practice shots.”

The next round found its mark, as did the one after. Breathing a sigh of relief, Castiel squeezed the trigger on the last round, sending it a little high and right in his haste to finish. His shoulder throbbed and every muscle in his body was still tense and sore from the morning’s session in the antique gym. It had been the same story every day for the past few months, ever since Dean had managed to track him down and convince him to come home. Get up, kill an hour or two in the gym, another couple of hours on the range, spend as much time as possible in the shower, find a beer, find something to eat, retreat to his room. The brothers had expressed their concern at his less than healthy method of coping with what had happened, but given their also frankly alarming track record, neither of them had too much to say on it. Well, not Sam at least. He was content to give Castiel his space, sort out his problems on his own. Dean on the other hand felt it his personal mission to walk the ex-angel through every possible aspect of his new species, including constant attempts at coaxing him out of his room to ‘socialize’ more and at least try to experience the more pleasurable side of humanity. Dean had yet to succeed, but it hadn’t stopped him. Today seemed to be no different, if his constant hovering was anything to go by.

A hand on Castiel’s wrist startled him out of his thoughts, tugging gently yet insistently towards the hall. Green eyes and a giant grin greeted him as he looked up in confusion. Too tired to argue, he let himself be dragged into the kitchen, where Dean tossed him a beer and directed him to take a seat at the table where Sam seemed to have already set up.

“Sorry Cas, I know you wanna run off and do your usual thing, but you aren’t allowed to tonight. You and I are leaving tomorrow, so the three of us are gonna hang out for a bit, go over the plans and relax.” Dean pulled out a chair for him before claiming the spot directly opposite. “First things first, where are we even going tomorrow?”

“If you had listened this morning, you’d know. There’s been a few people coming up missing in Hill City, South Dakota. Most of them have gone missing near the old gold mills a few miles north, and since there haven’t been reports of much else in the area, I’d say it’s a pretty safe bet that it’s a standard salt and burn, if you can keep from falling down a mine shaft, at least.” Sam shut his laptop with a sigh, cracking open the beer Dean had set in front of him and taking a few drinks before continuing. “I would have picked something a little easier and closer to home, but I figured something a bit more scenic would double as a sort of vacation. After everything that’s happened, you two need it.”

Castiel looked up at that one, expecting some kind of rebuttal from Dean, or at least some redirection from Sam’s blatantly obvious train of thought. He himself wasn’t really too sure how to respond to it, so he did what he usually did and kept his mouth shut, training his gaze on studying the grain of the wood. His feelings on the subject of Dean were the last thing he felt the need to discuss. Fortunately, Dean didn’t miss a beat, choosing to ignore Sam’s loaded statement in favor of criticizing his choice of hunt and locale.

“Missing people around a gold mine? How does that translate into a haunting?” Dean retorted after cracking his own beer and taking a swig.

“A few of the stranger reports were talking about them disappearing in front of several people. No trace, nothing. Just vanishing.”

“So then, where the hell is Hill City?” 

“Just west of Mt. Rushmore, in the middle of the the Black HIlls Forest. It’s about an eight hour drive from here, so if you manage to leave around noon, you should have a little bit of time to do some exploring. I’ve already made reservations for the week for you guys, all you have to do is check in and kill something before next weekend..”

“You booked us the whole week? You really think we aren’t gonna be done in a couple of days?” 

“Probably, but we’ve been cooped up in here for months. You both need to get out, and I need some time to myself. You are going to go and so help me, if I see either of you back here before the week’s up, I will drag your ass back up there myself, tie you both to the damn bed and take the car home with me.” With that, Sam downed the rest of his beer before getting up to go find everyone another round, the sound of Dean’s belligerent ranting following him.

The night wore on in much the same fashion, and Castiel felt more relaxed than he had in a long time. It may have just been the beer, or maybe it was just being in the company of the brothers without any urgent reason for doing so, but for the first time in months, he didn’t feel like isolating himself. Come to think of it, it probably was the beer. given that making the short trip to the bathroom appeared to require two people to accomplish by the time everyone was ready to call it a night. He didn’t remember much between the last beer and hitting his pillow face first, just the fleeting thought that this may not be such a bad idea after all.

***

The next morning came far too early for anyone’s taste, though as per usual, a couple of aspirin (ok, maybe three or four) was enough to get Castiel to stumble towards the bathroom, rubbing the sleep from his eyes while trying very hard to ignore the pounding headache currently assaulting his senses. The shower helped, though by then the aspirin had likely already kicked in. He made it through the rest of his morning routine before realizing he had forgotten his change of clothes, likely still sitting neatly folded on the desk in his room. With a sigh, he wrapped the towel around his waist and silently slipped out the door, padding back towards his room as quickly as he could. Luck seemed to be on his side for once, as the only sign of either Sam or Dean was muffled snores coming from the door across the hall from his.

By the time he was dressed and packed, the headache had faded for the most part, though not enough for him to want to even contemplate making his way down to the range to put in a few last minute shots. Instead, he made his way toward the kitchen, intent on finding something he could attempt to make for breakfast. He was surprised to find Sam already busy at the stove, flipping some eggs one last time before turning around to find some plates. Castiel was just turning around to slip back out when Sam spotted him and called him over to help finish up. 

“Morning Cas, “ Sam chirped, entirely too chipper this early in the morning. “Wanna help me finish up? Dean is usually a much easier person to deal with if you feed him.”

“I highly doubt that.” Castiel snorts derisively. 

They continued on in much the same fashion, Sam chatting idly about this or that and Castiel generally trying to avoid saying much of anything. He wouldn’t exactly call it avoidance, more of an active non-participation. Everything was going about as well as it could until Sam put his hand on Castiel’s back to reach around him for something. The touch brought his hand to his throat, His mind blanked, unaware of anything Sam was saying or doing. 

“...shit. Hey, you with me? Look at me, Cas.” Hands were on his shoulders, and he was unsure of when that happened, nor when he had been turned around. “You ok?”

“I’m fine.” Castiel wasn’t sure how many times that line would deflect Sam, but it had been working so far and he wasn’t about to give up now (he had learned from the best after all).

“Our fine or actually fine?” The blank stare Sam got in response answered the question well enough. “You know we can’t help if you keep trying to avoid us. At the very least, you need to talk about it. You should know by now that ignoring everything never ends well. For any of us.”

“There’s nothing to talk about Sam. I appreciate your concern, but I really am fine.”

“You’ve been locking yourself in your room every chance you get. Hell, it took Dean weeks just to convince you to even leave your room for more than the bathroom. If you’re not in the gym you’re at the range, and when you’re not there you’re right back in your room. It’s not healthy and it’s certainly not what someone does when they’re ‘fine’. Frankly, I’m surprised you’re even going out on this hunt.” Sam turned back around to pull the eggs from the stove before plating them and handing one to Castiel

“It’s...not been pleasant.” Castiel started as they made their way out of the kitchen and took a seat at the table. “Not the human part, though that hasn’t exactly been pleasant either. What I did-what I allowed to happen...the aftermath has been hard to deal with.”

“Cas, you know this wasn’t your fault, right?”

“Not generally, no.” He snapped. “It was my grace he used in that spell, I should have seen it coming.”

“And exactly how would you have done that?” Sam replied, voice still calm and even.

“I-I don’t know, but-”

“You don’t know, even after having months to think about it, as I’m sure you’ve been doing relentlessly. It wasn’t your fault, and when you guys get back next week, I’ll hopefully have a lead on fixing it. Kevin sent me an email the other day, he thinks he knows where to start.” Sam paused, placing a hand on Castiel’s shoulder before continuing. “So please, don’t do the whole ‘penitence’ thing this time, ok? Dean’s pretty much got that covered, and we need you. And frankly, I’m sick of listening to Dean. He’s scared to death you’re gonna up and disappear one of these nights and knowing him, he’s gonna blame himself for it.”

Castiel didn’t say anything, instead dropping his gaze to the counter, focusing intently on controlling his breathing. Truth be told, he’d been avoiding thinking about anything. He’d just done what he had always done, thrown himself into his training, his mission, his goal. Working was easier than thinking about everything. Again, the similarity was startling. For years he’d been chastising Dean for the same thing, and here he was, making himself the damn poster boy for unhealthy coping.

Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on your point of view), Dean chose that exact moment to stumble in, clearly hungover and not quite awake. It saved Castiel from having to reply, though it did nothing for his current train of thought.

“Really Sammy? All this for breakfast? I’m only gonna be gone for a week, save it for the girl I know you’re bringing over when we’re gone.” Just like that, their previous conversation was over, leaving Castiel to breathe a small sigh of relief, even if he didn’t feel any better.

***

By the time they were done with breakfast, he was feeling a bit more relaxed. Sam didn’t mention the earlier incident and Dean didn’t pick up on anything being wrong, As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Sam was right. Sure, neither one of them had exactly been shining examples of quote-unquote “sharing”, but that was all the more reason he should have been able to see what was going on. Of course, that train of thought was only more depressing, so he chose to pay attention to the Winchesters instead. 

It had been some time since either of them had been on a hunt (oh look, something else he could blame himself for). so the morning went by with a fair amount of excitement. They were packed and ready to go by 10, and on the road by 11. The trip went by frighteningly slowly, with miles of wheat fields gradually replaced by miles of cornfields. Castiel wasn’t quite sure when they had reached Nebraska, having had a small nap in between Lebanon and Bridgeport, only waking up long enough for Dean to shove lunch in his face before going right back to sleep until they finally reached Hill City sometime around 7:30. The hotel Sam had booked them was apparently not much better than what they were used to, though it was directly across the street from the aptly named bar known as The Farmer’s Daughter. One had to wonder if it was purely coincidence. 

The room was considerably nicer than what they were typically used to, though a bit on the smaller side. The walls alternated between a mottled brown pattern and a deep red, blending decently with the red couch with gold throw pillows along the wall nearest the door. A queen sized bed on a heavy oak frame sat in the corner, the comforter and pillows also a bright, almost disgustingly cheery red. There were a few standard mountainous portraits hanging here and there, though Castiel was convinced at this point that such things were required of all hotels.

After settling in and unloading the car, they were finally ready to do a little sightseeing (sorry, “case work”). Since it was well after dark, their first stop was at the aforementioned bar across the street. There wasn’t much to hear, though the drinks were pretty decent. They kept it light that night, only a few beers apiece before they headed out to check out the rest of the town. It resembled most small towns, largely residential areas surrounded by little else but hotels, restaurants and the odd little shop here and there. Since most (if any) tourism was directed towards Mt. Rushmore, there was little of interest. By midnight, they were both done and ready to call it a day.

Upon their return to the hotel, the implications of having just the one bed was finally addressed, the lengthy and generally irritating argument over sleeping arrangements was finally over only once Castiel conceded defeat and agreed that yes, they could probably both sleep on the same bed without much issue. Of course, that was before either of them realized Dean had a massive problem with sprawling out as much as humanly possible, leaving Castiel to scoot closer and closer to the edge or risk being smothered. By the time he finally made it to sleep, he had one arm hanging off, the rest of him threatening to follow suit. It was quite the surprise to wake up not only in the middle of the bed, but with a very warm and very comfortable body pressed against his back, one arm slung across his waist. Still mostly asleep, he pressed himself back into Dean, burrowed back down under the covers and went right back to sleep. Not fifteen minutes later, an undignified yelp startled him awake again. Well, that and Dean scrambling backwards until he landed ass first on the floor, stammering over apologies the whole way. Castiel just sat up and stared at him, not entirely awake and more than just a little confused.

“Shit Cas, I’m sorry. I’d forgotten I tend to get clingy in my sleep.” Dean sighed before running a hand over his face and making to stand up. “I can sleep on the couch tonight, if it makes you more comfortable. I can’t guarantee I won’t do it again, and…” he trailed off, clearly at a loss as to what else he could say. Castiel yawned, stretching as he went and trying very hard to ignore the sharp pain in his back at the movement. He’d been so caught up in Dean’s little episode that he hadn’t even noticed that it took far longer for it to start hurting than it normally did.

“It’s fine Dean, really.” He replied as he bent down to dig for his bottle of pills, shaking two out and swallowing them dry before standing up to make his way to the bathroom. “Don’t worry about it.”

The rest of the morning went on rather uneventfully, though there was definitely a tension that hadn’t been there before. Their first stop after finding some little diner for breakfast was the gold mill that people had been going missing around. A short four mile drive turned into a two hour journey into learning exactly why they really should have gotten directions beforehand along with exactly how many different ways one could swear over how much mud and snow was getting on his precious car. Of course, it couldn’t end there, so they hiked the last few hundred yards up a hill to...a somewhat reasonably short hiking trail wandering around the mine and ending at the mill frame. They spent the better part of an hour wandering around and finding absolutely nothing. As most of the reports had indicated, there were no marks, no tracks, no indication of any kind that anything had happened. 

A much faster return to town for lunch picked their spirits up a bit, and a stop by the library brought it right back down. There were no connections or patterns whatsoever between those who had gone missing. The only thing they did find out was that they had started years ago when the mines closed, then stopped altogether before starting back up a couple of months ago. The first round appeared to be random as well, until Dean managed to stumble across a short article detailing an accidental death a year or so before the mine was abandoned. A veteran fresh from the war had disappeared in the mines, and while the circumstances were suspicious, they eventually called the search off after no body was found.

With a clear idea of where to start this time, they left the library to drop by the hotel for a bit and burn some time, figuring they would stand a far better chance of exploring uninterrupted after dark. However, when they got to the car, there was a note taped to the back window, reading ‘you’ll need these’ with an arrow pointing to the trunk of the car. Dean swore under his breath as he unlocked the trunk to reveal a 30 pack of beer and a katana wrapped in parcel paper with another note threatening their...masculinity?...if they lost or broke it. Thoroughly confused now, Dean slammed the trunk shut and made his way to the driver’s seat, fury practically pouring off of him as he went.

“Who the fuck breaks into someone’s car and leaves them beer?” Dean looked as confused as Castiel felt, unsure whether to be angry at the violation of his car or happy that they had something to do when they got back to the hotel.

“I would assume someone who knows what we’re doing here.” Castiel replied evenly. “That or this town has some extremely odd tourism strategies.”

“Fuck it. We’ll figure it out after we get back to the hotel.”

***

A thorough examination of the car, the beer and the sword brought up nothing. No hex bags, no sigils, not even a new scratch. Finally satisfied that someone really did break into it just to leave the beer and sword, they spent the last few hours before dark trying to figure out how it could possibly fit into the case. When they couldn’t come up with anything by the time the sun went down, they just made their way back to the mines anyway, under the assumption that at the very least, having the sword might not hurt and having the beer couldn’t hurt in any way, shape or form.

Managing to get lost on the second try as well, they finally found the trail point and left the car there, loading up on the usual equipment as well as the mystery gifts. Castiel took the sword without argument or complaint, while Dean pocketed a few cans of beer where he could with a small bit of argument over the necessity of bringing beer on a hunt and the sheer stupidity of drinking in the woods in early winter. This led to a long and hushed conversation as they made their way up the trail.

“I think I’m old enough to know what I’m doing, Cas. It’ll be fine.”

“I’m older than you, I still don’t think it’s a good idea, and I’m not sure what age has to do with it.”

“Age equals experience. Except in your case. You have no experience, your age is irrelevant.”

“Just because I’m not experienced in doing irresponsible things doesn’t mean I don’t know whether or not it’s a good idea.”

“Dammit Cas, just shut up and live a little for once.”

“I’d like to live past tonight, which is my point entirely.” Castiel paused, squinting at some hastily scribbled notes from his pocket and looking around the trail. “The place he disappeared from should be right up here, provided it hasn’t changed much in 70 years…”

“And I’m the one who’s gonna get us lost out here?”

“He disappeared in a mine shaft, Dean. They’re not exactly hard to see.”

As it turned out, it really wasn’t very hard to find. Not more than 30 yards from the trail was the entrance to one of the few mine shafts that hadn’t been filled in and didn’t look like it was about to do so itself within the next few hours. It was a straight shot back, most of the adjoining tunnels having already been filled in over the years. Near the end they found the shattered remains of a small ceramic bottle hidden amongst the rubble and abandoned equipment. The largest pieces had remnants of an old Japanese label Castiel could swear he had seen used a few centuries ago. There appeared to be a name scribbled illegibly underneath it, but nothing to indicate why it would be sitting in a gold mine in the middle of South Dakota. Well, unless it had happened to belong to a certain missing veteran. Who had just gotten back from Japan. A horrifying thought suddenly occurred to him, the reason for the sword and beer finally clicking into place.

“Shit.” Apparently he’d been around Dean too long.

“What? Finally find something?” Dean made his way over and stared at the shards in Castiel’s hands. 

“Shojo. Well, possibly onryo, but highly unlikely.”

“You’re joking, right?” Dean stared at him. “How the hell would one end up here?”

“The missing veteran had just come back from Japan. This is what’s left of a very old sake bottle, likely what it was in.” My guess is he opened it here and since it wasn’t bound, it started killing. It would explain the sword and…”

“And what?”

“The beer. You, ah, have to be drunk. To see them, I mean.”

“Oh. Oh, shit. You’re really not joking.” Dean paused, looking around as though it could be hiding behind something. “I really didn’t think I was ever gonna run into another one. Forgot all about ‘em.”

“Well, hand them over. I’d rather get this over sooner than later.”

“Wait, why do you get to be drunk?” Dean stared at him as though offended that Castiel would dare suggest such a thing. “I brought them. I get to drink them.”

“Your tolerance is significantly higher than mine. You can have what’s left” With that compromise Dean relented, tossing him one before opening one himself.

“What? I get one no matter what. It’s only fair.” He replied when Castiel glared at him for it. The beer went down as it always did, not exactly pleasant but not exactly terrible, either. He really didn’t have much of a tolerance for it anymore, figuring three or four might not get him killed. 

He didn’t even get halfway through the second one before something had the hair on the back of his neck prickling. Apparently Dean noticed too, grabbing a third can as Castiel finished with the one he had and handing it to him. 

“I don’t think we have a whole lot of time left here, Cas.”

“I’m-shit, this is awful-well aware, Dean.” He grimaced at the taste, finishing the last bit before tossing the empty can back to Dean. 

“Want the last one or you think that’ll do it?” Dean watched him carefully, dropping his guard for a moment. Castiel nodded silently, staring hard at the tunnel behind them. He had the last can almost finished before he saw (thought he saw) a shadow slinking along the wall.

“We really need to go. Now.” They both turned and ran, a faint giggle following them the whole way out. Neither of them stopped until they reached the trail. Trees blended with shadows, dancing and shifting as the beer finally kicked in hard. Castiel drew the sword shakily, unsure how he was supposed to be able to accurately hit an inanimate object, let alone a thoroughly pissed off ghost. Dean stood behind him, Castiel’s old blade in hand on the very off chance that it might do them any good. For what felt like an eternity, all Castiel could hear was the muted sound of them breathing. The air was still and cold, the world starting to spin slightly.

It may have only been a few minutes, maybe a few hours, neither of them were sure, but Castiel saw the flash of white in the corner of his eye followed by a downright evil laugh. It may have been the beer, it may have been adrenaline, but for the first time in ages, he was downright excited. He tightened his grip on the handle, steadying his breathing and trying hard to focus on the treeline surrounding them. The white flashed again, just on the edge of his vision. Slowly but surely it became more corporeal, the girl’s pale face coming into focus. He raised the sword, muscles tense and ready to defend the both of them, except she never moved. She just stood there, staring at him with empty, soulless eyes. Until she wasn’t.

The first hit didn’t even register, only the fact that she had shifted from in front of him to his side. She licked her finger, barely tinged with red. A warm trickle down his arm finally made him look down. It wasn’t deep, in fact it looked like she had barely grazed him. Getting a taste, a small voice in his mind echoed. 

“Cas, you doing ok? Can’t see shit out here.” Dean’s flashlight bounced off the trees, passing straight through the shojo on several occasions. Slowly she looked from Castiel to Dean, as though contemplating which one would be more fun to take down first. Castiel didn’t even hesitate. He shot forward as best he could, Dean whipping his flashlight toward the spot the shojo was standing, a look of surprise on her face as the ex angel took a swing at her. She ducked under the first swing, and the second, diving in for a well placed hit just below his ribcage. He stumbled on a small rock at the last second, turning it into a small gash and landing one good hit to her shoulder. She reeled back and he took the opportunity to ram it straight through her gut before finally losing his balance and landing flat on his ass. The shojo let out an indignant shriek before disappearing in a flare of blue.

“I think so, yeah. In one piece at least.” He picked up the sword, sliding it back into its sheath before slowly making his way back to Dean. His heart was racing, adrenaline overriding anything else at the moment. 

“Then let’s get the fuck outta here. I’ve had as much history as I can take right now.” 

The walk back was mostly uneventful, or would have been had Castiel not forgotten that they were trying to go back down a hill. All he knew was one minute he was walking next to Dean, the next he was sliding straight down said hill, coming to a stop only when his foot caught on a tree root. He felt rather than heard a small snap, though the alcohol was nicely dulling any actual pain.

“Cas? Fuck man, you ok? I swear, if you get your ass killed on the walk back, I’ll kill you myself.” Dean’s flashlight bounced off the tree Castiel had caught himself on, causing him to try to look back at Dean.

“I’m not dead…” He wobbled as he tried to stand, his ankle giving out the second he put weight on it. “Definitely broke something though.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I told you drinking on a hunt was a bad idea.”

***

After several hours in the ER getting his ankle set and put in a cast, Castiel found himself being dragged back to the hotel, half delirious with whatever had been in the pills they had given him and clinging to Dean like his life depended on it. He was in such a good mood that it didn’t even register to him that there should not be a woman sitting on their couch when they walked in. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Dean demanded, almost dropping Castiel before tightening his grip around his waist, putting himself between the woman and the ex angel. 

“Most people just call me Jo, and we’ll leave it at that. I’m here to thank you for killing the shojo.” She stood, smiling brightly and offering her hand.

“That was your fucking ghost? That thing almost killed us!” 

“No, no it wasn’t. It was my mother’s, actually. She was a witch, as am I. She gave it to my father when they met in Japan. It was meant for protection and had been bound to him. When he went missing, I couldn’t find the bottle again, and assumed that it had been lost with him. But when people started going missing, I knew someone had stumbled on it who shouldn’t have. I was on my way to take care of it myself, but I figured since you guys were in town, it was already in good hands. I’m here to thank you for taking care of it for me, and I need my sword back.”

Castiel stared at her blankly, offering the sword slowly and unsteadily, earning a harsh glare from Dean that he readily ignored, his attention focused entirely on the woman in front of them. 

“Thanks again boys, I’ll see you around.” With that she kissed both of them on the cheek before walking out the door, leaving them to stare after her. They saw a glimpse of what looked like a little red Impala convertible through the window across the room as it passed the hotel.

Dean stared at the window for a long moment before muttering a soft ‘what the fuck’ and helping Castiel hobble over to the bed and lay back against the headboard. Castiel let out a contented sigh and settled down, relaxing for the first time since they had woken up that morning. He lost himself in his thoughts for a bit, staring at Dean as he wandered around the hotel room, trying to decide what to order for dinner. 

Still thoroughly inebriated and feeling extremely full of himself, he let his gaze wander lower and lower as the time passed, and the more he watched Dean practically sauntering about, the more an amusing thought kept occurring to him.

“You know, that has got to be the best thing I’ve ever made in my existence.” He slurred, a lopsided grin breaking out across his face.

“Wait, what? What is?” Dean paused to look at him in confusion. 

“Your ass. I admit, I may have gotten a bit...carried away when I rebuilt your body, but your ass is definitely the best thing I ever made.”

“Do what?” Dean sputtered, a blush steadily creeping up his neck. “How high are you right now?”

“Very, far as I can tell. S’kinda nice. Loved you since I first saw you, y’know.” He sighed, closing his eyes as he leaned back. Blissfully unaware of his complete lack of filter, he continued on. “It may or may not have made me a bit biased at the time, but all in all I’d say it worked out anyway. I knew you didn’t...weren’t interested in something like that, so I might have...enhanced a few things so I could at least enjoy it a little bit. Made it a bit harder to keep my distance than I thought it would, but I think I managed well enough.” He paused in his confession, a small giggle escaping him. “A righteous ass for the righteous man, I suppose.

“We’ll uh...we’ll talk about it when you’re sober.” Dean finally managed after several moments of tense silence. Something in Castiel’s expression must have caught his attention though, walking straight over to him with a fond look in his eye. “If it makes you feel any better though, the feeling is mutual.” He chuckled before kissing Castiel softly, his hand coming up to cup his face. For the time being, it felt as all was right with the world, and Castiel realized he had been right. It hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Definitely had fun writing this, especially as I've been through the area used for this fic. The places are real, the events are not. Not even close.


End file.
